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Talk:Nova/@comment-24796133-20150226183144/@comment-25065826-20150228103538
I'm changed, washed and out of my room before daybreak. I didn't sleep at all, and couldn't just stay, lying in bed, until morning. I needed to do something. So the gym seemed as good as any other option. I walk down the corridor to the gym, and go over to the 'single-user-operating' running machines. I start of at a jog, and speed up, until I'm almost sprinting. After a few minutes, some people come in. I recognise them from the Mecca mission. It's not just me who can't drop off, it would seem. I stop running, and move over to the punch bags. I have pretty much no experience with them and my idea of a success is not breaking my wrist, but it seems like the only thing that can take my anger from me. I put on a bit of the safety wear, and start punching. The bag is barely moving, my hands are hurting like hell. But I get a feeling of satisfaction and unburdening, and keep punching. He's never going to see day again. He blew up. Islam's holy city is rubble... After a while of different equipment, when my muscles are sluggishly sat in my body, I make my slow way over to breakfast. I get some toast, and sit alone at the end of a table. As I did on my first day. The day I was told I was welcomed into hell. I know what Jordan means, now. Speaking of him, he comes and sits beside me. "I... Are you ok?" I ask him quietly. "No. Completely not. I feel absolutely awful." Is his reply. "What about you?" He asks. "Same." I reply. Conversation fades from there. After breakfast - I'm cleaning the tables, apparently. I get a cloth, and get to work. The boy who's helping me is a little... controversial. "How are you, then? What's your name?" He asks. "Fine. I'm Niamh." I reply. I realise I've only said short sentences to anyone today. I guess I'm not in the mood for talking. "Weren't you on that Mecca mission? Pretty cool, wasn't it?" He says, smiling. I stop. Look at him with what I hope is a killing glare, and drop the cloth. "What did you say?" I ask, my voice quiet and I hope somewhat intimidating. "That... Well, didn't you think it was cool? All that power in your fingers, and no-one has a clue that you are the culprit? So clever, isn't he, Pluto?" That does it. I grab the cloth, throw it at him, and as he's getting it off him, walk over and grab him by the neck. Slamming his head onto a table, I get the cloth and shove it into his mouth, and with his, squeeze the soapy water over his eyes. I drop it on him, and push him over the side of the table. And walk off. In the gym, I feel the tiniest bit of remorse. But the weights sort it out for me. In my room at the end of the day, I feel so achy I doubt I'll get any sleep. But I guess tiredness beats it off, because I'm in a deep sleep in a few minutes. A few hours later, though, I'm awoken. By a screaming alarm, blaring extremely loud. "BREACH AT MEDICAL WARD!"